Page 56 of Pickled
“Mrs. Lockelhurst, please.” I wasn’t ready for more outlandish lies. It seemed like she was fully committed to the maid ruse. “I can handle this.”
Gideon’s jaw muscle twitched. “So when you said you lived next door…”
“I live in the coach house. Above the garage.” My voice was steadier than I felt. “I should have told you that first night.”
“But you didn’t.”
“No. I didn’t.”
He was quiet for a long moment. “Why?”
Because the look in your eyes when you thought I was your neighbor and someone from your world felt good.
“I don’t know,” I said instead.
“You don’t know,” he repeated with zero emotion. “You let me think you were someone else entirely, and you don’t know why.”
“It’s complicated—”
“Complicated how? You either live somewhere or you don’t. You’re either a… whatever this is or not.” He gestured to me and Mrs. Lockelhurst.
Gideon’s words hit me like a slap. “It’s not that simple.”
A normal person would’ve excused herself, but Mrs. Lockelhurst stood there, watching the exchange go back and forth like she was a spectator at Wimbledon.
“What did you think would happen? That I’d never find out?”
Before I could answer, a small voice piped up from the radio on my belt.
“Gus Gus to Cinderella, do you copy?”
I couldn’t let Olive go unanswered. Sighing, I unclipped the radio and pressed the button. “Go for Cinderella.”
“Can I watchPaw Patrolon my iPad? Over.”
Gideon’s face lost all color. He looked less like a pro hockey player and more like the White Walkers I’d joked had designed his house.
“Oh dear.” Mrs. Lockelhurst’s shoulders sagged. “That’s my granddaughter. She loves Rocky and Zuma—”
“Stop.” I held up my hand. “You don’t have to do this, Mrs. Lockelhurst. Gideon, can we step outside for a minute?”
“That’s not necessary. I think I’ve seen all I need to see here.” He zipped up the backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and strode away without saying another word.
Mrs. Lockelhurst and I stood in the doorway, stunned. The radio crackled in my hand. “Cinderella?”
“Give me that.” Mrs. Lockelhurst grabbed the radio from my hand. “Go after him.”
I hesitated, but only for a second. Bolting out the door, I jumped down the stone stairs in one leap and jogged past the coachhouse. As my footsteps slapped the pavement behind him, I wondered if he might start to run too, but instead, he stopped and turned. The color had returned to his cheeks, but his eyes were… dark.
“You have a daughter.” His voice was flat.
“I do.”
“A daughter. What else? A husband? Is your name even Piper?”
“Gideon, please—”
“Please what?” He spread his arms wide. “Please understand why you lied about everything? Please pretend this doesn’t change anything?”
